


Genesis

by NamelessHound (corrosiverose)



Category: Ghost (Swedish Band)
Genre: But he does "die" I guess, Gen, He comes back though, I don't think this is considered character death, Ritual lyric use, That Summoning video gave me too many ideas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 01:06:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8036305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corrosiverose/pseuds/NamelessHound
Summary: "Grey stone corridors echoed hollowly with every footfall, his worn boots sounding like drums in the unnatural silence of this… sanctuary. That was what the woman at the door had called it, at least. Welcome to this great Sanctuary."___________A possible origin story for the Nameless Ghouls.





	Genesis

**Author's Note:**

> The newest Summoning [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KcMXG2HqY78) gave me a few ideas along with the release of Square Hammer. Ultimately, I may have had too much fun with this. Part two is on the way.

Grey stone corridors echoed hollowly with every footfall, his worn boots sounding like drums in the unnatural silence of this… sanctuary. That was what the woman at the door had called it, at least. _Welcome to this great Sanctuary._

 

He had to admit, it did look the part, the regal, stuffy silence of the place, the lingering scent of incense, the occasional glimpse of a hooded figure, sometimes masked, sometimes not. Candles burned in the sconces on the high, arching walls, great beams and sweeps of architectural marvel above him, whenever he dared to take his eyes off of the cloaked shoulders of the figure he was following.

 

She had met him in the vestibule, her steely gaze taking him in with one, measured glance, before it settled on his own, demanding his attention without saying a single word of greeting. Stepping forward, she’d torn the pendant he wore from his throat with a scoff as it hit the floor with a magnified rattle.

 

“Your path is one of absolute devotion. I will not stand for you to bring petty… mementos of your past life into these walls. That life is over. You were warned of this, were you not?” When he did not answer immediately, his eyes darting to the pointed toes of her shined, black shoes, her voice  had cracked like a whip. “Were you _not?!”_

 

He straightened, his shoulders going back and his eyes snapping to rest somewhere on her wrinkled forehead, not sure if he was allowed to meet her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.” He had caught sight of the symbol of the order at her throat, the bronzed metal gleaming wickedly, only the light of the candles illuminating it for now.

 

Now, as he dared to glance up at the doors that they were approaching, that same symbol, larger this time, and engraved into the heavy, ebony doors, seemed to both welcome him and set a chill down his spine. His hands slid into his jeans pockets as he hunched inward, and he tried not to visibly shiver as the doors opened with the slow groaning of stiff hinges. These doors were old, and as the sudden wash of cold air hit him a thought came with it, this room didn’t seem to be frequently used, either.

 

The woman leading him called out an order in what sounded like archaic Latin, and he was momentarily blinded as fire roared up in a great, stone hearth, lighting the room and sending near suffocating waves of heat toward them. It warmed his body unnaturally quickly, and he froze as she turned on him again, one hand patting the smooth polished wood of a coffin that had loomed up out of the darkness behind her, casting a great shadow in the angry light of the raging fire.

 

“This is where your life ends, Initiate. I would ask if you believed yourself ready, but now that you are here, it is too late to just let you walk out. Your life; His price. Your will; His will. Your soul; His life. Your mission; His mission. Are you on the Square?”

 

“I am.” For all of the nerves that roiled in his belly, his voice came out soft, but steady.

 

“Are you on the Level?” She continued, eyes bright and hard as they bored into his own again, piercing through the misgivings and pulling him to focus on their intensity.

 

“I am.” It came out stronger this time.

 

“Are you ready to swear, right here, right now, before the Devil?”

 

He straightened, unsurprised by the sudden naming of whom this Sanctuary was dedicated. “I am.”

 

The flames flared hotter, burningly so, and he fought the urge to squint as his eyes watered from the glare of the fire behind her, turning her whipcord frame into the silhouette of a vengeful… angel would be wrong, in context.

 

She spoke again, breaking his focus from the sting of heat on his face. “Cast aside your clothes, as you cast aside your Life.”

 

If there had been a moment to protest, it was long gone, and he removed his jacket, folding it and setting it down, before dragging his shirt over his head, boots, socks and jeans following, leaving his boxers last to join the pile beside him. Instead of feeling the chill of the place, and the nerves that he’d felt before the vows, he only felt the same, burning heat of the fire. It warmed him, and at the same time, it almost felt like fingers, licking against his nude form. He wondered how much of that was fantasy, his mind attempting to explain the moment, and how much of it was truth. His eyes settled on her own again, seeing the approval there.

 

In a sudden movement that had him tensing, as thought to fight or flee, she turned and flung the lid of the coffin open. Her hand stroked over the velveted lining, and her eyes sought his own again, dark pleasure visible there now. “This will be your bed, for the night. I will put you in it, and I will release you from it when the sun rises. You enter as you are, you leave as He wills. Take your rest, Initiate.”

 

Uncertain, but determined to do as asked, he climbed the three stairs that led up to the heavy, wooden box, taking in the play of light on the smooth wood, the heavy scent of myrrh from the velvet inside, and that same symbol, embossed upon the pillow that lay inside.

 

“Initiate. Take your rest.” There was impatience in her repeated request, this time an order, and he did as told, climbing in and trying to settle himself as comfortably as he could in the box. It was roomy, even for a luxurious coffin, but the same terrifying thought remained, muted in the back of his mind, that it _was_ a coffin. He swallowed hard as he saw her stern face appear above him now, the pendant on her throat hanging down, gleaming now in the firelight, like it was molten flame, itself. It was the last thing he saw as the lid slammed back down on him, warm darkness quickly becoming smothering as he was limited to staring into the blackness that seemed expansive and yet close around him. He closed his eyes, pushing down the fear.

 

The first, resounding thud beside his left ear had him startling, and as it was repeated, he realized dimly that was was sealing him in, _nailing_ the lid down. Three swift strokes per nail, one at his left ear, one at his right, another at his left and right hands, and a final fifth at his feet. Five points, he’d been told, were very important. He was to be the first of these Five.

 

Another sound, this one of metal on wood, as something heavy was settled on the lid, right over his chest. He forced his eyes closed again, sweating in the heat of the box, and counted to himself, keeping his breathing steady. If he had to spend the entire night like this, at least it was a comfortable box. He heard the doors creak shut, signalling her departure, and gradually, the cloying heat seeped away, leaving him in the reality of being sealed into a dark coffin in the basement of a Sanctuary to the Devil. The same Devil he’d just proclaimed himself a sacrifice and a tool for. Biting his lip, focusing on the sharp pain to refocus himself through the shivers of the chill that had filled him, he waited for the morning.

 

And then something old, and _strong_ and immense reached into his mind and began to pry it apart.

 

He screamed.


End file.
